If you have not picked it from my accent, I am originally from Nigeria. Each time I read the story of the Good Samaritan in today’s gospel passage, I feel compelled to believe that Jesus was certainly a Nigerian. I say so because Jesus seems to exhibit one of the traits of Nigerians. One thing about Nigerians is that a typical Nigerian loves to answer questions with questions. When you ask a Nigerian any question, don’t expect an answer; the answer the Nigerian will give you will most likely be a question.
Once upon a time, an American heard about this Nigerian trait, so he decided to fly to Nigeria to find out if it was true. When the American arrived in Nigeria, he went to the first Nigerian he met and asked: “Is it true that Nigerians love to answer questions with questions?” The Nigerian looked him straight in the eye and replied, “Who told you?” The American answered, “Thank you, I got my answer.”
In today’s gospel passage, a lawyer asked Jesus what to do to inherit eternal life. That was just one question from the lawyer, but Jesus answered with multiple questions. Jesus asked the lawyer, “What is written in the law?” Before the lawyer could answer, Jesus asked, “How do you read it?” The lawyer then mentioned the love of God and the love of neighbor. After Jesus praised him for the correct answer and admonished him to obey the commandments, the lawyer asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Instead of Jesus giving him a direct answer, he told the lawyer a long story, and at the end of the story, he asked the lawyer, “Which of these three, in your opinion, was a neighbor to the robbers’ victim?”
The lawyer who came to Jesus did not ask because he wanted to grow; he came to ask to prove a point. He reminds me of some students who ask so many questions in class not because they need an answer but because they want to prove a point. They ask a question, and before the teacher answers, they are already thinking of the next question. The lawyer first asked about what to do to enter eternal life; he got his answer. Instead of going with that answer, he wanted to find fault with Jesus, so he asked, “But who is my neighbor?” Then Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan.
As Christians, we often desire to be good neighbors but face obstacles. We can identify two possible obstacles in today’s Gospel passage: First: the quest to avoid contamination. Unfortunately, the priest and the Levite were not good neighbors. They saw the robbers’ victim and looked in the opposite direction. But let us not rush into condemning them. They were not bad people; they did not act as good neighbors because they were “good people,” they were “holy people, and “they were” rule followers.” The priest was going to the Temple to offer sacrifice, and as part of the rules, he had to go as pure as possible; he had to go as holy as possible; and if he happened to touch a corpse or human blood, he would be unfit for Temple duties. The Levite also was probably on his way to the Temple to assist in worship and sacrifice. So, he had to be ritually clean by keeping himself away from human blood and corpse.
The Samaritan was the good man in this story. This portrayal of the Samaritan as a good man must have been astonishing to the Jews who first heard this story. Why? The Samaritan was half-Jew and half-Pagan in origin and religion. When the northern tribes of Israel were invaded in 732 B.C. and 721 B.C., many were taken into exile while a few were left behind. Those left behind intermarried with some of the invaders, Assyrians, so they welcomed their strange gods and their cultures and gave birth to children with mixed blood. There came a big divide between the Samaritans and the Jews, who did not mix up with foreigners. There was mutual hatred between the two. So, the Jews did not believe there was anything good about the Samaritans, and then Jesus came and told a story where the good person was the Samaritan.
Second: The unnecessary lines we draw between people. From the story, we see a second obstacle to our becoming neighbors to others: the unnecessary lines we draw between people. When we see a person, instead of treating them as a human being, an image of God, we begin to ask, “Are they Male or Female?” “Black or White?” “What kind of accent do they have?” “Do they have a college degree?” “How do they worship God if at all they do?” And with such questions, we place people in boxes. But life continues to teach us that human beings cannot be placed in boxes. Probably, the robbers’ victim in this story was a Jew. Then, two Jews, the priest, and the Levite, saw him and abandoned him, but the foreigner, the outcaste, the one they looked down on, became the only one who proved himself to be a neighbor.
As we promote segregation, life continues to teach us that sometimes the one who will save us tomorrow may not be of the same race as us, they may not be a fellow Catholic, they may not even believe in God. As a Catholic priest, there have been times when I felt safer in the presence of Catholics, but guess what: those Catholics snubbed me, abandoned me, and were unkind to me. I looked around and found non-Catholics, non-believers, who treated me with love, respect, and compassion. That is why we must let down our guards; we must break down the walls and build bridges. God can reach out to us through anybody and wants to reach out to others through us.
Please permit me to share an experience I had in the college/major seminary. A few years before my final year, I kept praying to God for two of my professors (priests) to be transferred. I had my reasons. I did not like one of them because I found his classes very boring, and he was going to teach a very important course in my final year. I dreaded the second professor because I felt he always snubbed me; he seldom answered my greetings. For whatever reason, we would be face to face, eyeballs to eyeballs. I would greet him, and he would look away or start talking to someone else. I felt he hated me and would vote against my ordination. So, I prayed for him to be transferred before my final year.
It so happened that as I was getting ready for the final class, an “insider” wrote a horrible petition against me for which I was to be immediately expelled from the seminary without any investigation. But two of the priests on the formation council of my seminary insisted that the allegation must be investigated. They argued that a seminarian with a clean record for eight years in the seminary could not be expelled for an unsubstantiated and uninvestigated allegation. So, most formators (almost twenty of them) succumbed to the two, and a panel was set up. I am a priest today because the investigation revealed that the allegation was false and malicious. In case you are wondering who the two priests were who risked their reputation and their career for my vocation, they were the two priests I prayed to God to transfer before I got to my final year. When I prayed to God to get them out of my way before my final year, I had no idea God needed them to protect my vocation.
My dearly beloved in Christ, that person you look down on today may be your only savior tomorrow. So, we must bring down all the walls and build all possible bridges so that we can all be one in God as he intends. Let us pray that God may grant us the grace to become channels of his blessings to all we come across and to bring us in contact with those through whom he wants to bless us until we come to our heavenly inheritance through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Homily for 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C 2025
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